


abandonment

by soapyconnor



Series: Commissions [6]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Divorce, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: james knows leaving him is for the best





	abandonment

**Author's Note:**

> this is a commission. if you would like to commission me, message me on tumblr @rboydholbrook. it's 1 dollar for every 100 words. enjoy.

            “I’m tired of this, Alastair.”

            “What do you mean?”

            James watched as Alastair set down his umbrella, and began to take off his petticoat. James couldn’t help but feel the little heart flutters deep in his chest at seeing his husband, but he squashed them. He couldn’t go on like this . . .

            “You need help, Alastair. And you refuse to accept my help, nothing I do _helps_ you . . . You . . .” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Living with you, knowing that I can’t help you, knowing that you don’t want to help _yourself_ . . .”

            Alastair’s eyes went wide. “Spit it out already, James.”

            “I’m leaving you.” James bit down on his tongue. “The papers are on the counter.”

            He watched as the stages of grief traveled across Alastair’s face. “What? No—fuck, _no_! You can’t do this,” Alastair gasped, tearing at his throat. Alastair swallowed heavily, and it almost looked like he had hives. “I’ve been getting better! I’ve been working with Jack, he’s—”

            “Don’t fucking bring up Jack into this,” James growled, his fists clenched. “You know how I feel about him.”

            He watched as Alastair’s jaw went slack. “Why the fuck do you hate Jack so much? I don’t fuckin’ understand it, never have. Jesus Christ, do you not realize how that makes you look?” James’ eyes were firmly planted on Alastair’s lips, watching as his tongue darted out to lick at the dry skin.

            “I don’t care how it makes me look, fuckin’ lord . . .” James pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Funny how you’ll try all this stuff for Jack but once I ask you to try something you scream and yell at me.” James rubbed his fingers into his temples, sighing softly.

            “What? That’s . . . that’s ridiculous. I know I’m not very accepting of criticism, but _every_ time you’ve suggested it, I’ve thought about it and agreed. I’ve spoken to Jack about it, he’s . . .” Jack itched at his face. “He’s my logical side. He can get me to calm down. I’m sorry, James, but I love you, and sometimes I don’t . . . feel like you’re doing thing in my best interest.”

            James’ eyebrows furrowed together. Then he laughed. “Get out.”

            “James—”

            “Get out of my fucking house, Alastair. Now. Go to fucking _Jack’s_ house if he’s so God damn understandable, and able to get you to fucking _change_.” James ran a hand through his hair. “God. Fuck you.”

            A range of emotions flashed over Alastair’s gaze, and he just bowed his head. “You’re being serious about it, aren’t you?” Alastair swallowed. “I . . . I can’t believe this. We’ve been together ten years. You know how hard it’s been for me to erase a life time of bad habit. And now . . . now, just because I’ve been close with Jack for five years, he’s been helping me see things that I _couldn’t_ , and now . . .”

            Alastair met James’ gaze. “Did you ever even love me?”

            “Don’t be absurd—”

            Alastair threw his hands up in the air. “What do you expect me to believe? You want a divorce over nothing, fucking lord—”

            Tears pricked James’ eyes. “Get. Out.”

 

 

            James watched Jack and Alastair across the street. The bags beneath his now ex-husband’s eyes were big, and he had lost a considerable amount of weight. But he was smiling at Jack. He seemed happy—

            James blushed as he realized Jack was looking at him. Jack turned and smiled at Alastair, patting his shoulder before he said something to him. Alastair nodded, and headed inside the bookstore. James watched as the man’s untamed mop of hair disappear behind the glass.

            Jack crossed the street. James’ stomach flipped but he remained where he was, not quite able to meet Jack’s eyes. Instead, he focused on the man’s hideous mustache—no, it had morphed into a beard.

            The corners of his mouth twitched when he remembered how much Alastair loved it when James had a beard.

            “I don’t get you,” Jack said, his southern drawl piercing through the slight British lilt he had gotten from living there for so long. “Break his heart, destroy him when he was making progress, and you fuckin’ stalk him like a creep?”

            James snapped out of it, a slight widening of his eyes. “I’m not stalking you two.”

            “Uh huh,” Jack said, glancing at the building behind James. “So. Taken an interest in makeup, huh?”

            All color left his face. “So, what if I have?”

            Jack sighed. “You miss him.”

            “I don’t.”

            “Don’t play that bullshit with me. I know you don’t like me, but I can see it plain as day. Your own friends may not be able to see it, but I am.” Jack scrubbed at his face. “He misses you too. Every day. It’s the reason why he’s still living with me. If you just—”

            “I don’t get it.” James rubbed at the corners of his eyes. “I really don’t get it.”

            “Get _what_ —”

            “He’s clearly in love with you.”

            Jack froze, staring at him with furrowed eyebrows.

            “He’s in love with you. He’s always wanted to do things that would make _you_ happy. Once you pointed out to him shit that’s wrong with him, he’s always so receptive. He always wants to fuckin’ make you happy. I divorced him, because I couldn’t _stand_ that and his unwillingness to change for _me_ , because I thought, hey, maybe he’d be happy with you. And he’s not fucking moved on.”

            James looked into Jack’s eyes, tears pouring down his cheeks. “Why.”

            Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a fucking idiot. He loves you. You know Alastair, if he didn’t want to be with you, he would have _left_. Sorry that he was in fucking denial about the things you told him and I, fuck, _I_ defended you and told him he was wrong.” Jack scratched at his cheek. “Get over your jealousy. Your jealousy is what ruined your marriage.”

            James stared at him as Jack glanced over his shoulder at the bookstore. James opened his mouth, but stopped when Jack looked back.

            “I need to go,” he said, before turning his judging brown eyes back on James. “If you ever decide to pull your head out of your ass, you know where I live. Though, I’m going to stop defending you.” Jack smiled. “I hope you know that.”

            “I do,” James whispered.

            “Good. You don’t deserve him. You never did.”

 

 

            James curled up on the small leather sofa in his office, his eyes falling shut, cradling the bottle of vodka to his chest. He used to drink whiskey, but now . . .

            He kicked his legs up on the armrest. True to his word, Jack stopped defending James and trying to look at things from both sides. James knew it was going to happen eventually, but now . . .

            James shuddered, covering his face with his arms. He missed looking at Alastair and seeing the man longing for him, wishing that he would return and sweep him off his feet again. But of course, both of them would too stubborn, and would not make a move towards one another. James missed Alastair _pinning_ for him. He wanted him back, but now whenever he looked at Alastair—

            Alastair _hated_ him.

            James pulled his wedding ring out of his pocket, running it over and over again in his hands. Oh, he knew, he _knew_ that he had done this to himself, but oh God, had he _wished_ he hadn’t been so stupid. That he had taken Jack’s advice that day and went to Alastair, apologizing and wishing to start over.

            Because who’s the drunk now?

            Alastair was happy. He had found someone new, a Statesman agent that was close friends with Jack’s boyfriend, Bourbon. James had seen the agent around quite a bit, and he wasn’t . . . bad looking. He was certainly better looking that James, and he had . . . fuck, James had let himself go.

            James’ eyes shut. He could hear the New Year’s Party going on up above, the mixture of British and Southern accents dripping down to the basement. His chest was tight, and he gulped down another mouthful of vodka.

            He lowered the bottle as he heard a knock on the door. _God_ , he thought to himself, figuring it was just Merlin or Harry or fuck, even Roxy coming down to bother him and drag him upstairs to join the party.

            “Go away.” He groaned when the door opened. “I said, go away—”

            “You know,” the oh-so-familiar voice said softly, “I didn’t believe anyone when they said that you became a drunk. I didn’t believe them when they said that you had turned into me.”

            James turned, staring at Alastair, who’s lips were red and his face was a little flushed. James imagined the Statesman agent kissing him, wrapping his arms gently around Alastair’s slim body, tilting him backwards and licking at his mouth. James shuddered.

            “Fuck off. What does it matter to you?” James then snapped his jaw shut, suddenly getting lightheaded and realizing what he just said to the person to he loved. _Loves_. “Why are you down here?”

            Alastair scratched at his chin. “I needed . . . to see you for myself,” he murmured, looking James up and down. “Jack told me what you said.”

            “Did he?”

            “Mhm.” Alastair stared at him, hard. “If you had told me, none of this would have happened. You . . . you were such a fucking idiot. And you always made me feel bad. Now look at you.”

            “Al—baby—”

            “You lost the right to call me that after you left me because you were _jealous of my best friend_.”

            James licked his lips, sinking down on the couch. “Does that Statesman agent make you happy? Does he treat you right?”

            “David? Yes. He doesn’t get jealous at me for talking to Jack,” Alastair snorted, “And not to mention he helped me get over my alcoholism, helping me figure out healthy ways to let it go.”

            “I tried to help you—”

            “Yelling at me and getting upset when there weren’t changes made immediately isn’t helping.”

            James wiped at his cheeks, surprised that he was crying. “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s too late for that.”

            James paused. “So. So . . . so if I apologized and changed—”

            “I would never take you back, James.”

            “Why?” he croaked.

            Alastair bowed his head, and shook it. “How about you self-reflect for once?”

            Alastair left James, wallowing in his own self-pity.


End file.
